


Raspbekisses

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anotherlongstoryshort asked</p><p> </p><p> Tropes: Sterek, roadtrip :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raspbekisses

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the finale ...

Stiles doesn’t ask for much.

All he wants is to see the Ocean. And Derek is more than happy to oblige, renting a comfortable car for them to drive from Beacon Hills to Pajaro Dunes Resort.

It’s Scott who suggest going there, since it’s a quiet-ish part of the Coast, and Stiles nods in agreement.

And Derek is more than happy to oblige.

The road changes along the miles. One minute they’re travelling through fields, no curves ahead, just the horizon and a lone cow gazing at them, and the next, Derek’s knuckles turn white from the control he exerces over the wheel to keep them from rolling down a ravine.

They take breaks, and Derek often seeks contact with Stiles.

Even since the whole … fucking mess with the Nogitsune, Stiles is quiet, and it unsettles Derek. it’s making him anxious, actually, and he compensates by touching Stiles.

Stiles personnally thinks that Derek is reassuring himself of Stiles’ tangibility.

But he’s more than happy to oblige the older man’s quirk, letting Derek’s warmth comfort him and assure him that for now, in that moment, in the big outside, with only their presence disturbing the landscape, he’s safe and okay.

Stiles drives too, but only if Derek has had a good night sleep beforehand.

Stiles’ request, not Derek’s.

Derek wants Stiles to trust his own instincts, but the younger man retorts that his own instincts are going boinkers because he’s not sure of who he is anymore.

Which usually leads to Stiles crumbling into a heavy breathing mess, so Derek drops it.

Derek enjoys looking at Stiles behind the wheel, observing his profile, the set of his jaw as he negotiates one particularly bitchy bump, the way he nods his head to a music inside his head, the way his thumbs drum the wheel every now and then.

The way Stiles smiles crookedly at Derek when he turns his head to look at him before making a stop to take yet another Polaroid.

The way Stiles’ tongue pokes out of his mouth when he does take a picture, and the way he blows a “raspbekiss” at Derek when the older man laughs at the ridiculous face he pulls while he waits for the picture to show itself.

Ah, the raspbekisses.

Derek loves those almost - but barely - more than Stiles’ actual kisses.

Still, almost, because Stiles kisses like he’s only on Earth to do so. He manages to kiss passionately and gently, pouring all of himself in it while making Derek feel like this is what he always needed to be complete.

And kissing under the stars and the Moon, be it full or new, it’s pretty damn magical.

As they reach the coast, as civilization is once again their landscape, Stiles isn’t as relaxed as he was in the wilderness, but Derek’s hand never leaves his long fingers, and the tension - some of it anyway - leaves his body.

Derek parks the car in a nearly deserted parking lot, and Stiles inhales deeply, the smell of the Ocean surrounding them.

They both sit in the sand, their toes nudged together and Derek keeps quiet, letting the sound of the waves sooth him from what remained of his worries.

He keeps track of Stiles’ heartbeat, content to hear it calm and regular like a metronome.

Until it picks up.

"Thank you, Derek," Stiles whispers before leaning his head on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek feels the tears on his skin before he actually hears Stiles’ sniffles, but he knows better now than to react.

Wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist, he lets him cry for what he was manipulated into doing, for the friends he has lost - for all the things he has lost, really - until Stiles hiccups and nuzzles into Derek’s side.

"You’re welcome," Derek simply says, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple. "You’re so very welcome."


End file.
